Feels Like Home
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: "Her tummy skips, a happy, excited sensation, and she savors it, this secret knowledge that this here, this evening, this moment, it feels like home." Follow-up piece to episode 4x07, 'Cops and Robbers'


**Disclaimer:** Castle and its characters belong to Andrew Marlowe and ABC. No monetary gain is made from this endeavor. I don't own anything. If I did, I would want Kate Beckett's amazing coat collection!

Follow-up piece to episode 4x07, "Cops and Robbers"

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><p><strong>Feels Like Home<strong>

"Here you go, kiddo." Martha hands her a glass of wine with a flourish. Kate smiles, thinking Martha probably does everything with a flourish. She's always found herself strangely drawn to the elaborate emotions and whimsical charm of Castle's mother. There is joy in her, and warmth, and she's embraced Kate into her life like an old friend from the first time they met (well, technically the second time; upon their first meeting, Martha had to bail out her son when Kate had arrested him so that may not count).

It makes her self-conscious, sometimes, wondering exactly how much of her Castle has shared with his mother. Overwhelms her a little bit, this family that is so open and welcoming.

Another flourish, and Martha clinks her glass against Kate's, catching her eyes. "Cheers Darling," and then she takes a long sip. "Aah," she sighs into her glass, "we certainly deserve that!" Then takes another grateful sip.

Kate tips her glass to her lips, savors the crisp taste of the expensive red wine against her tongue, tangy and rich, with a hint of vanilla and also, she thinks, black cherry.

She reaches for another glass, pours some wine for Castle, all the while looking at Martha out of the corner of her eye. The woman's hands are a flurry of activity, scooping more food into serving bowls, pulling rolls out of the oven, sampling the gravy. But it isn't hard for Kate to see behind the façade, to see the shock still lurking in her eyes, the fear she must have felt but is trying so hard not to show.

She reaches out, puts a hand on Martha's. "How are you feeling?" The other woman stills, turns around to look at Kate.

"Oh, you know…" she trails off, waving her arm through the air, almost dismissively.

"The worst part was feeling so helpless," she sighs. Kate knows, and squeezes her hand in encouragement.

"But Richard…" Martha continues, and Kate's heart skips, just a little bit. She chooses not to analyze that reaction to the mere mention of his name.

"…He _acted_, you know? He did something. He had ideas and he was brave and smart about it… I was so proud of him..." She winks at Kate. "Though I did want to slap him for being stupid every time he opened his big mouth." Kate laughs. That certainly was a familiar feeling.

"You changed him, you know." Martha looks at her earnestly.

Kate can only stare at her, doesn't know what to say. Yet she knows it's true for her, he's changed her too, in so many little ways that she didn't even know it was happening.

"He's grown up, if you can believe that," and both women smirk in unison.

"He's still a big kid in many ways," she continues, then turns serious again. "But where it counts, he's more considerate now. Makes smarter decisions. He used to be that way only for Alexis…" She reaches out, grasps Kate's other hand, and looks her in the eyes.

"He strives to be a better person, Kate. For you."

She feels like she can't breathe. The truth is, she knows. She's seen it happen. Watched how that page six persona he shows to the public cracked open in front of her, like a walnut, revealing the nooks and crannies, the bumps but also the rich, aromatic flavor of the real Richard Castle. But it's entirely different when it is pointed out by his mother, of all people. It makes it… true.

Martha reaches out, and slowly strokes Kate's cheek. Her heart stutters, aches, the small gesture so reminiscent of many similar ones that she hadn't felt in too many years. She blinks rapidly, trying to keep her eyes from welling up.

"I hope I don't sound condescending when I say this, but…" Martha continues softly, still caressing her cheek. "Your mother would be very proud of you, of the kind of person you are."

Something wells up in her chest, something warm and lively, clogs her throat, and then it's Kate that reaches out this time, wrapping her arms tightly around Martha.

Martha returns the hug, holds her tightly against her, lightly stroking Kate's back. And for a few moments Kate hangs on, allows herself this heartfelt, motherly comfort that she had been missing for so long.

"His faith in you never wavered, you know." Martha adds when they pull apart, but she holds on to Kate's shoulders. "He knew you'd get him out."

At that, Kate smiles softly, flashing back to a moment that she had almost forgotten, that feels like so long ago. "Yeah, I did tell him once I'd get him out of prison."

Something flashes across Martha's face, an understanding or determination, Kate cannot tell for sure. The look is gone quickly, carefully concealed by the actress, but the grip on her shoulders tightens, just for a second.

"Don't be afraid of what you want, Kate." Martha implores, resolve strengthening her voice. "Regret is a terrible thing to live with." And then she lets go of Kate's shoulders, turns back toward the oven.

"Alexis, darling, help me with the Duck à l'Orange, s'il vous plaît."

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><p>Castle has shooed her out of the kitchen, declining her help. "You're our guest, go relax," he said, handing her her glass. So she wanders to the living room area while Castle and Martha take care of the dishes. The large fireplace flickers, casts its warm light over the large open space, creating happy shadow puppets dancing across the walls and surfaces of the room. She's comfortable here, in his space, more than she likes to admit.<p>

The TV is on, the volume a low murmur, the picture jumping from station to station. She finds Alexis on the couch, mindlessly changing the channels, staring at it but not watching anything.

Kate hesitates for a moment. Ever since her shooting, Alexis has been less… approachable, less open. She doesn't really know why, but she thinks she understands. Alexis had been close enough to see the lights go out, and Kate accepts the girl needing to put some distance between herself and that particular brand of horror and fear.

"Mind if I join you?" She finally asks, and Alexis' head swivels around to look at her.

She shakes her head. "Not at all." Kate moves around the end of the couch, sits down in the opposite corner, draws up her legs.

Alexis hits a few more buttons, the picture jumping in quick succession. But then she drops the remote next to her, sighs in frustration. "There's nothing on."

The room turns silent, and Kate twirls the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. She relaxes against the back of the couch, focuses on the soft sounds coming from the kitchen, muffled conversation and clinks of porcelain and silverware. Castle's voice, low but unmistakable, the hum flowing through her, centering in her belly.

"Detective Beckett?" Alexis pulls her out of her thoughts, and she looks back at the girl. There's a sadness surrounding her today that makes Kate's heart ache.

Alexis looks at her, with those beautiful blue eyes, so much like her fathers, but rimmed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch today." She drops her head.

Kate's heart contracts. She scoots closer, reaches for the girl's hand. "Alexis," she says softly, and Alexis looks up at her. "I understand. You were scared. That was a normal reaction. Don't worry about it."

There's a ghost of a smile on her lips, and for a short moment, Alexis' small hand squeezes hers. "Thank you," she exhales, and it's so heartfelt and deep that Kate knows the girl means more than receiving her forgiveness.

Warmth blossoms inside of her, a swell of affection for Castle's amazing daughter, and she doesn't know what to do with it, how to contain it, so she just lets it flow, relaxes against the realization that through some stroke of luck, she has already become a part of Castle's small family. It's a heady knowledge, viscous but sweet and with a bit of spice, like wild honey.

She finds that the most prevalent realization of it all is that she no longer fights it.

"I broke up with him," Alexis bursts out, her voice wobbly.

"Oh Sweetheart…" Kate murmurs, stroking the girls arm in comfort. "I'm so sorry…"

"It's alright, really," Alexis continues. Trying to be brave, outwardly unaffected. Kate recognizes it, that particular coping mechanism, so eerily similar to her own.

"It was the right thing… He was never there for me, and don't I deserve that? It's so much better this way…"

Kate nods. She flashes back to a similar conversation, so long ago, when she was sixteen and so ill-equipped to even recognize what real love could be. But feeling like the world would end, like she couldn't breathe. And talking with her mother, trying to be brave, strong, like a grown-up, trying not to show how deeply she was affected when all her heart wanted was to be wrapped against her mom's chest, where there was understanding and comfort and no judgment…

She doesn't hesitate, doesn't want to worry about boundaries, she just knows that this might be the only thing that she can do to help. So she pulls Alexis close, wraps one arm around her as she settles her against her side.

"It's okay to be upset, you know," she whispers, stroking her fingers over her head and through the soft strands of red hair. "Even when it was the right thing."

Alexis' slight body quivers against her. "Breaking up sucks!" She sniffles, and then her arms wind around Kate's waist, holding on tightly.

"Yes, it does."

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><p>The fireplace provides the only illumination, wrapping them in a cocoon of orange warmth. The room has turned quiet around them, Martha having bid them good night, and it's just her and Castle, settled in their own little peaceful world that they have so unwittingly, unexpectedly created.<p>

She watches him, for a change. Follows the shadows as they cradle his cheekbones, flitter across his strong brow. He sips his wine and she finds that she wants to be the glass, pressed against his soft lips. Her tummy skips, a happy, excited sensation, and she savors it, this secret knowledge that this here, this evening, this moment, it feels like home.

"What's that smile about," he asks, and his adoration shines at her through the dark blue of his eyes, the skin around them crinkled in a soft smile. This man loves her. She knows, and she savors that too, the flavor of it almost as palpable against her tongue as the wine.

"Nothing," she says instead, twirling her finger around the top of her glass. "Just happy that we're alive."

They grow quiet again. She leans her side against the cushions of the couch, mirroring his position across from her. There was so much good food, she feels lazy and drowsy, the wine adding a mellifluous heaviness to her limbs. Her fingers idly pick at an invisible thread on a cushion.

He reaches out, stills her hand with his, then leaves it resting on top of hers. His smile is soft, but no less intent. It's almost palpable, this line that they are quietly crossing. The heat of his skin seeping into hers, awakening the butterflies inside of her that have been lying in wait for this moment all night. She wants to stay, just like this.

"It's late," she says instead, "I should go." But belying her words, she entwines her fingers with his, holding on.

"You could stay here," he offers, while his thumb idly outlines the underside of her hand, runs across the tender skin of her wrist. "I have a guest room."

She considers it. Getting up, braving the cold outside holds no appeal. Leaving here is daunting. But she knows, if she stays tonight, she won't be sleeping in the guest room.

"I can't," she whispers. Not tonight, not yet. '_Soon_,' she wants to say, and she hopes he can hear it in the silence between them.

His free hand reaches for his cell phone, presses a speed dial. He calls his driver for her, while his eyes never waver from hers.

He tugs on her hand and meets no resistance when pulls her closer. He watches silently as he reaches out a hand, tugs a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers are tender, gossamer wings against her skin as he traces along the rim of her ear, caresses her cheek. Her eyes flutter.

She sighs, leans against his touch until her cheek is cradled in his palm. She wraps her hands around his and holds him there. Presses a soft kiss against his palm. Making her promises.

The buzzer on the door makes her jump. Her heart hammers. She laughs self-consciously, tugs him up with her.

He walks her to the door and hands her her coat. She feels deliciously fuzzy, a little giddy. Holding on to his forearm, she turns to face him.

"Thank you for tonight, Castle. I had a wonderful time." She looks at him and lets that moment stretch. Savors these enchanting seconds where nothing matters but the two of them, eyes locked, suspended in time, at the cusp of something extraordinary.

And then she closes the gap between them and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. She lingers. A little too long, a little too close to the edge of his mouth to be considered innocent. "Good night," she whispers, and slowly backs away.

He smiles at her warmly, runs one finger down her cheek. "Good night, Kate."

She turns around again when she is almost at the elevator, knowing he's still at his door, watching her.

"Hey Rick," she calls, and his eyes snap to hers when he hears his given name.

She smiles softly. "I do, you know." She admits. "Need you."

And when the elevator door closes, she can still see his smile beaming at her, filling her out, wrapping her in effervescent joy. It keeps her warm all the way home.

**_FIN_**


End file.
